Richelieu had conquered, but he was dying. Though his body was broken by disease, his mind was vigorous as ever; in revenge and hatred, in courage and fortitude, his spirit was still lusty. In his enormous thirst of blood, none had ever excited him like the airy Marquis de Cinq-Mars, – a creature of his own, whom he had raised to the dizzy height of supreme power, to become his rival in love and power. The great minister felt he had made a mistake: it angered him. He had not patience to think that he should have been taken in by a butterfly, whose painted wings he had decorated with his own hands. He, the all-potent Cardinal, the ruler of France, circumvented by a boy! He swore a big oath that not only should Cinq-Mars die, but that death should be made doubly bitter to him.
Richelieu was now at Valence on the Rhone. How was he to reach Lyons, where the trial was to take place? The distance is considerable. His limbs were cramped and useless, his body racked by horrible pain. But go he would; if he died upon the road he would go. So he ordered a room of wooden planks to be constructed, gilt and painted like a coach, and lined with crimson damask. This room contained a bed, a table, and a chair. Within reclined the Cardinal. Too ill to bear the motion of a carriage, he was borne on the heads of twenty of his body-guard by land. Houses, walls, and gate-ways, were knocked down to make way for him. By water he was conveyed in a towing boat pulled up the Rhone against the current by horses to Lyons. Attached to this boat was another, in which the prisoners Cinq-Mars and De Thou were carried. So Richelieu passed onwards, with all the pomp of a Roman pro-consul conducting barbarian princes first to adorn his triumph, then to die! As for Monsieur, he had already made his peace with his brother and Richelieu. He turned King's evidence, and betrayed everybody. Fontrailles, who alone could have convicted him, was safe across the frontier. "Talk not to me of my brother," even the besotted Louis exclaimed, when he heard that Monsieur was again at liberty; "Gaston ever was, and ever will be, a traitor."
The only crime which even the ingenuity of Richelieu could prove against Cinq-Mars was that he had joined with Monsieur in a treaty with Spain. Now the original transcript of this treaty was lost, Fontrailles having carried it with him into the Netherlands, stitched in his pocket. If Monsieur the Duc d'Orléans, therefore, had declined to speak, Cinq-Mars and his friend De Thou must have been acquitted. But Monsieur, on the contrary, loudly demanded to be interrogated on his own complicity and on the complicity of Cinq-Mars. The Cardinal had already showed what was in his mind, by giving orders, as soon as he was lifted out of his portable chamber, on arriving at Lyons, and before the trial had begun, "for the executioner to hold himself in readiness."
The trial was on the 12th of September, 1642. It began at seven o'clock in the morning, at the Hôtel de Ville. The Chancellor Séguier, a personal enemy of Monsieur le Grand, who had affronted him in the days of his greatness, was the president, and Monsieur Duc d'Orléans the principal witness. Monsieur's evidence was given with touching candour. He was so careful to tell all the truth, so skilful in bringing out all those facts which were calculated to place Cinq-Mars in the most odious light, that the charges were easily proved to the satisfaction of the judges. The trial was over in a few hours. Then the two young men were summoned before the judges in the council-chamber to hear their sentence. It was read out to them by Monsieur de Palleruc, a member of the criminal court of Lyons. According to this sentence they were both to be beheaded; Cinq-Mars was to be tortured. He listened with calmness, De Thou with resignation. They both shook hands with their judges. "I am prepared to die," said Cinq-Mars to Séguier, the Chancellor, "but I must say the idea of torture is horrible and degrading. It is a most extraordinary sentence for a man of my rank and of my age. I thought the laws did not permit it. Indeed, I do not fear death, gentlemen," continued the poor lad, turning to the judges, "but I confess my weakness, – I dread torture. At least, I beseech you, let me have a confessor."
His request was complied with, and Father Malavette, a Jesuit, was brought into the council-chamber. As soon as he saw him Cinq-Mars ran forward and embraced him. "My father, they are going to torture me," he cried; "I can scarcely bring myself to bear it! What is your opinion?"
"That you must submit to the hand of God, Monseigneur. Nothing happens but by his permission."
Cinq-Mars bowed his handsome head, covered with the sunny curls, and was silent. From the council-chamber he was led by Monsieur de Lanbardemont, an officer of the Court, to the torture-room. Here he remained about half an hour, and suffered torture, both ordinary and extraordinary. His supple limbs and delicate skin were horribly lacerated. He was unable to walk when he came out, and was supported by the officials. "Let me now think of my soul," he said faintly; "send my confessor to me, and permit me to be alone with him." This wish was granted, and an hour passed, during which he confessed and received absolution. Then he said to Father Malavette, "I have not eaten for twenty-four hours, my father, and I am very weak. I fear if I do not take something I may swoon upon the scaffold, though indeed, I assure you, I do not fear to die." A little wine and bread were brought to him, of which he partook. "Ah! my father," said the poor boy of twenty-two, "what a world it is! Everybody I know has forsaken me. How strange it is! I thought I had many friends, but I see no one cares for me now but poor De Thou, whom I alone have brought to this pass."
"Alas! my son, you are young, or you would not wonder at this," answered Father Malavette sorrowfully; "'put not your faith in princes.' What says Ovid too, who, like you, enjoyed the favour of Augustus, and was then cruelly punished?
"But, my father, when I was the favourite of his Majesty, I tried to serve my friends in every way I possibly could, yet now I am alone."
"No matter," said the priest, shaking his head, "your service to them only made them your enemies."
"Alack, I fear it is so," replied Cinq-Mars, sighing deeply. Then he asked for paper, and wrote to his mother. He prayed her to pay all his debts, and again expressed his utter astonishment at the conduct of his friends. At three o'clock in the afternoon both he and De Thou were carried in a hired coach into the Place des Terraux, lying over against the banks of the river Soane, in the outskirts of the city. Here the scaffold was erected. Every house in the Place was covered by temporary balustrades and balconies; the roofs also were crowded with spectators. Thousands had come together to see the favourite die.
Cinq-Mars with difficulty mounted the ladder leading to the scaffold, with the help of Father Malavette. Then, still holding him by the hand to steady his wounded limbs, he raised his plumed hat from off his head, and, with a graceful air, saluted the multitude. He turned to every side, and passed around to each face of the platform, so that all might see him and receive his salutation. He wore a court suit of fine Holland broadcloth, trimmed with gold lace; his black hat ornamented with red feathers was turned back in the Spanish style. He had high-heeled shoes with diamond buckles, and green silk stockings, and he carried a large scarlet mantle, to cover his body after decapitation, neatly folded on one arm. His fair young face was perfectly serene, and his clustering curls, slightly powdered, were scented and tended as carefully as heretofore. Having bowed to the crowd, he replaced his hat on his head, and, with his hand resting on his right side, he turned round to look about him. Behind were two blocks, covered with red cloth. Beside them stood the executioner. He was only a city porter – the regular official being ill – a coarse and brutal fellow, with bloated face, wearing the dress of a labourer. When he came up to Cinq-Mars with scissors to cut off his hair, M. le Grand put him away with a motion of disgust. He begged Father Malavette to do him this office, and to keep his hair for his mother. While the long ringlets which fell over his shoulders were being cut off, Cinq-Mars turned towards the executioner, who had not yet taken the axe out of a dirty bag which lay beside him, and asked him haughtily, "What he was about?" and "Why he did not begin?" The rude fellow making a wry face in reply, Cinq-Mars frowned, and addressed himself to Father Malavette. "My father," said he, "assist me in my prayers, then I shall be ready."
After he had prayed very devoutly, and kissed the crucifix repeatedly, he rose from his knees, and again in a firm voice repeated, "I am ready, begin!" Then he added, "May God have mercy upon me, and forgive my sins." He threw away his hat, unloosed the lace ruff about his throat, put back his hair from his face, and laid his head on the block. Several blows descended ere his head was severed from the body; the executioner